


Meadows and Glass...

by Ad_Absurdum



Category: Blur
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-19
Updated: 2010-07-19
Packaged: 2017-10-10 16:10:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/101614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ad_Absurdum/pseuds/Ad_Absurdum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say there's a thin line between life and death. Line? what line?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meadows and Glass...

**Author's Note:**

> Wrapped around the lyrics of Graham Coxon's "Ribbons and Leaves" from his album "Happiness In Magazines" (so, a songfic, but without the lyrics in the fic's text. Except for the title which is a direct quote).  
> Warning: The fic is a bit odd.

An old street. So old that the stones crumbled to dust a long time ago. The decay was slow, but with time it turned the pavements into a grassy field and trees took the place of houses.

It was a cold and desolate landscape, inhabited by no one. Which made a threadbare armchair standing in the yellowing grass, look even more out of place.

To its right there was a small coffee table, a tin standing on it. Inside there was an old wristwatch (_It could be my grandad's._), a red ribbon (_Here, I'll weave it into your hair._) and a few leaves picked in the late autumn.

On the other side stood a broken TV set.

In the armchair sat Death. His head tipped back, his dark hair gently ruffled by just-turning-into-winter breeze, his eyes behind old-fashioned thick-rimmed glasses, closed.

Another figure approached. It came to stand beside Death's chair; mischievous blue eyes looking from under a blond fringe at apparently sleeping Death. The newcomer smiled lopsidedly, reached down and caught Death's nose between his thumb and forefinger.

'Life.' Death stated gravely, opening one eye. 'You know I don't need to breathe, right?'

Because Life was still holding Death's nose it sounded more like "You dow I don need do breathe, righd?"

'Spoilsport.' Life grinned and flopped down onto the armchair's arm. Death moved slightly to accommodate him and they settled, resting against each other.

Life leant back and looked up at the sky. The sun was beginning to peek from behind the clouds and the air became warmer.

They sat in silence for a while, content to just do nothing.

A bird appeared in the sky. It circled in the air, high above their heads and then landed softly on the coffee table. Death reached for the small creature and cradled it, unresisting, in his hands. Then gently laid the still bird down in a cardboard shoebox he pulled out from under the table.

'Do you remember that woman?' Life's question broke the silence and he stretched his hand for the shoebox.

'Which one?' Death adjusted his glasses and handed the box over.

'The one that begged you not to take her husband away. He was a soldier.' Life took out the dead bird and held it in his hands.

'There was a war, he was shot. He died.' Death watched as the bird stirred and fluttered its wings.

'She called him her dead prince. I thought it was very poetic.' Life smiled a little.

'I can't listen to every woman or man who asks to be spared. It would never work,' Death said wearily. They'd had this discussion many times.

The bird jumped from Life's hand and flew away.

'I know,' Life sighed. 'It still doesn't mean I like it.'

'And I don't expect you to, but face it, my dear,' Death smirked, 'you need me.'

'Yeah, rub it in, why don't you?' Life rolled his eyes.

'There are worse things, you know,' Death said in mock-offended tone, but then became more serious. 'And at least I love you.'

Life pressed a kiss to Death's temple and smiled into the dark hair. 'I know that too.'

They settled against each other more firmly, silent again. After the centuries together they didn't need words. But to touch, it was still lovely.


End file.
